


Artist

by JJayBlah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Can I pay someone to do these tags for me?, Just some good old fashioned fucking, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 13:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16242749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJayBlah/pseuds/JJayBlah
Summary: Remus wants to be an artist. Sirius isn't convinced. Now, he just needs something to paint.





	Artist

Remus had always found art to be an amazing thing. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was about it, but he could stare at a single canvas for hours. Maybe it was the patience: a trait he admired. True, he was the most patient of his group of friends, never waning when a prank took more than five minutes of planning to come together, but he doubted he had that much patience. Even if he did, he doubted he had that much talent. Since they’d left school, he was desperate for something to fill his free time. Admittedly, there wasn’t much of it, but he thought it’d be nice not to have to think about what hell the future had to offer. His recent obsession had been life drawing. How a person manages to put the human form on something as simple as a canvas blew his mind. A Muggle, nonetheless. No charms, no potions, just paint and time.

When Sirius came home, Remus was stood in their living room. Arms folded, staring at a fabric canvas half the size of the wall. It took a moment for Sirius to fully comprehend what he was seeing, coming in like a blizzard as he always did. A mess of layers and hair. He’d thrown his scarf over the coat stand and nudged the front door shut with a heavy boot, before freezing at the threshold at the sight in front of him.

“What...the bloody hell is that and how did you get it in here?”

Remus barely turned his head, too engrossed in taking in the colours that created the shadows on the portrait.

"It's nice, isn't it?"   
"It's...giant porn, Rem."

Finally Remus cracked a smile and turned to face his lover. He'd comment later on what a way with words his counterpart had, but for now he'd focus on greeting him properly. One arm lifted to wrap around Sirius’s neck, pulling him in for a soft kiss, foreheads resting together in greeting.

"Hey, you."   
"Hey, yourself."

Another quick meeting of their lips and Sirius turned his head slightly to get another look at the canvas. Unlike Remus, these things didn't interest him in the slightest. He could appreciate that they were good, of course he could, he wasn't blind after all, but he just didn't understand Remus' fascination with them. Slowly but surely every wall in their flat was becoming filled with art pieces by artists with names he could barely pronounce. He'd stopped trying a while ago, to save himself from the piercing glare that he was met with every time he butchered the pronunciation of Hieronymus Bosch. One hand lifted to make a vague gesture over at the canvas and he pulled a face, for lack of having better words.

"Don't you like it?"  
"I...He's naked, Rem. What about when Harry comes over."  
"Well, it's not gonna stay in the living room, Pads."  
"Are you about to tell me that you want to keep a picture of a random naked man in our bedroom?"  
“No, but -”  
“Merlin’s tits, we’re not keeping it in the bathroom! I’ll get stage fright.”

The laugh that burst out of Remus' mouth came so suddenly, that Sirius couldn't help but erupt into laughter too. He didn't care all too much about it, so long as it wasn't within immediate view of the bed...for obvious reasons. Every time Remus bought a new picture home, he'd sheepishly carry it through as though Sirius wouldn't move heaven and earth to make him happy. What did a couple of abstract art pieces matter? He turned toward it, arm coming to settle around Remus' waist as he tried to get a better look. He'd be a liar if he said that it wasn't good, at least. Remus had good taste, he'd give him that.

"He looks like James."  
"No he bloody...Oh...my fucking...He does look like James!"   
"Desperate to see James’ bits, are we?"  
"Piss off, Pads."

Remus let out snort of a laugh, and tilted to one side to nudge the other in the ribcage.

"Ugh, I can't keep it now. It's weird."  
"I guess you were too busy looking at other parts to notice how much it looked like him. Mainly the giant cock practically leaping off of the canvas."   
"Shut up. I was looking at the details."  
"Yeah you were."

Remus brought a hand up to slap over his eyes, chin dropping to his chest as he shook his head. Sirius had a very specific sense of humour. It hadn't changed since they were in school, and if Remus were honest, he liked it that way. It was childish, but not in a bad way. He never failed make Remus laugh at least, even when Lily was swatting his shoulder for daring to.

"I was trying to get inspired."   
"Inspired to do...what exactly?"   
"Paint something."

There was a pause in the usual easy sway of their conversation, and Remus slowly turned from the canvas to look at his partner who was squinting over at the artwork. He knew that face. He knew that face well. It was the involuntary face that Sirius pulled when he had something on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn't sure if it was something he should say. Remus had a love hate relationship with that look. On the one hand, it was good that Sirius was better than he had been in the past, where he'd just open his mouth and let whatever he had at the forefront of his brain fall out of his mouth. On the other hand, Remus' curiosity wouldn't stop him from wanting to know what it was. It was never a good thing.

"Go on."  
"What?"  
"Say it."  
"Rem -"  
"I know you want to, so just spit it out."

Pause.

"You know I love you..."   
"Bloody hell, Pads."  
"You're just...not that artistic."   
"Sirius!"   
"No no no. You are artistic, just not that artistic."

The emphasis on the words came as he tipped his head in gesture to the oil painting. In these moments, Sirius was glad that Remus had a thing for Muggle art more so than magical art. He didn't know what he'd do with himself if the man in the portrait just did a sudden turn. Sirius had been quite content only seeing Remus' cock move for the past few years, he didn't need this oversized one waving in his face over breakfast. God, if he were honest, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world just putting a bloody sheet over the thing.

"I could be!"  
"I believe you, Rem."  
"The fuck you do. I've got the stuff upstairs."  
"And what's the plan, are you gonna paint everyone we know naked? We've already got Prongs covered. Who next? Lily? Peter? …Dumbledore?"

Sirius had to press his lips together in a bid to keep a laugh at bay, that alone was enough to coax that threatening glare out of Remus. Though Sirius already knew what was coming. There was a look of determination that Remus got whenever anyone dared to doubt his abilities. What it usually meant was that Remus would go through hell and high water to prove that he could do whatever the hell he set his mind to, and Sirius would somehow end up dragged into it. He'd be lying if he said that there wasn't something about the look that he found incredibly sexy. If there was anyone who had the utmost faith in Remus, it was Sirius, however there were just some things that Remus couldn't do, no matter how hard he tried. Things like being able to resist an unattended bar of chocolate. Not bite down on his bottom lip every time Harry so much as burped. Paint a portrait.

"I could paint you."  
"Excuse me?"  
"Would you rather I paint another naked man?"   
"Fuck. No."  
"Right then. Clothes. Off."

Sirius gave a light lift of his brows, the determination forcing out Remus' dominant side. On any other occasion, Sirius had a tendency to behave like a brat. Had they been in the bedroom, Sirius would have likely said something along the lines of 'make me', but he could already tell that Remus was only focused on one thing right now. Being a brat in this instance, would only likely lead to a pissed off Remus. Sirius took a final glance over at the canvas, the oversized portrait of who he could only see as James bloody Potter looking back at him, and heaved out a sigh. One hand reached up to grip at the back of his t-shirt pulling it off over his head.

The next forty-five minutes was filled with Remus gathering art supplies and Sirius wondering how the fuck he was supposed to look good slumped in an armchair. He could manage this on any other day, but Remus planned to paint him. He couldn't have the image of him strewn across the fabric looking like a rag doll immortalised forever. That being said, there was always the likelihood that his initial comment had been right, and that Remus had the artistic skills of a sponge. In which case, it might not be so bad if people couldn't tell who or what it was. God, the idea though. He settled for one arm resting on the arm of the seat, one leg bent at the knee and the other outstretched in front of him, the epitome of indifference.

"What're you gonna..."

The words caught in Sirius' throat when he lifted his head to catch sight of Remus stood stark naked in front of his canvas. Sirius felt like he’d missed something. A moment ago, he were playing the role of ‘life model’ and now he had his counterpart stood bare in front of him, hands reaching behind him to tie the ribbons of his apron. Sirius had a very specific way of reacting every time he looked at Remus. It was as though his brain shut down, if only for a few seconds, while he just took in the sight in front of him. James had said that it was blindingly obvious that Sirius was head over heels with Remus the minute he set eyes on him, and that it was obscene how long it took them to get together. Sirius would always melt, just the slightest bit, and it didn't even matter how long they'd known each other, or how long they'd been together. He doubted the other even noticed. Remus certainly did. It was involuntary. Just the way his body responded to being in love. It was sweet, really. Sickeningly so, Sirius always made a note to point out. When Remus was naked however, Sirius’ body had a very different way of reacting. Mainly by sending blood rushing south.

"Thought it might help you feel a little less self-conscious if we were both naked."   
"Well now I've got something else to worry about."

Sirius was sure that it was a genuine thought on Remus' behalf to help him feel better about being the only one in the nude, but if were a choice between feeling a little weird and having a hard on that he couldn't do anything about, he would rather the former. That being said, he was a little less certain of Remus' intentions when he caught sight of the grin that spread across the man's face at the sight of him. One hand lifted to cover his eyes, head dropping forward and sending raven coloured locks into his face, while the other went into his lap.

"Wha -, I can't paint you like that. C'mon."  
"You're bloody right. You can't. You can't paint me hard, Remus."

There was a shift in Remus' position, the sound causing Sirius to lift his head again, and when he did, Remus was stood in front of him. He rocked his head to one side, tongue poking out of his mouth to swipe across his bottom lip before he folded forward to meet Sirius' lips. That wasn't helping. The gentle scrape of fingertips through his hair wasn't helping. The hand that brushed against his already hardening cock certainly wasn't helping.

"Fuck..."  
"Stroke it."  
"Mm, you're supposed to be painting."   
"Who said I wasn't going to?"

Pause.

"You want...to paint me...while I jerk off..."  
"Better than a boring painting of you just sitting there."   
"Rem, I'm not gonna just- Ah!"

There was another feather soft stroke to the underside of his shaft, causing him to jerk in his seat at the sudden sensation and Sirius' eyes screwed shut. In all honesty, it didn't matter what he did now. There was no hope of him going soft without some kind of relief. Remus' hand found his wrist, guiding his own hand to the swollen cock, and his fingers instinctively wrapped around it, the first initial stroke sending electricity over his skin.

To his recollection, he hadn’t ever done this in front of another person. He couldn’t understand why a person would need to. He knew that some people liked to watch, but he’d only ever managed a stroke or two and Remus was on top of him. He’d never appreciated the appeal before, but he had to admit that there was something exciting about it. Putting on a show, and only occasionally catching a glimpse of Remus’ eyes lingering a little too long over the top of canvas. He shifted a little, trying to find a better position to rest his arm. Clearly he hadn’t thought this through enough, but in his defence, he was only supposed to be sitting.

“Keep still.”  
“Shit. Sorry, I...Fuck, I’m good at this.”  
“Mn, I know.”

Sirius didn’t need to see Remus’ face to know he was smirking. He could hear the upturned corners of his mouth. He was already finding himself wondering how long this would take. Fuck, he knew artists that would take hours working on a single portrait, and Sirius wouldn’t last that long. Slender fingers were tightly wrapped around his cock, thumb swiping over the tip with every lift of his wrist, coating the digit in sticky precum. It was getting harder to remember that Remus was stood only a short distance away, and to a certain extent, Sirius had to control himself. His head tipped back, sending his hair splaying out across the embellished fabric of the armchair, sweat already starting to pool in the dip of his collarbone, as he sent a low moan up toward the ceiling. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to know what he looked like when he was like this. He felt his brows lift as though he were surprised by the direction of his own hand, slipping away from his length to massage at the balls underneath. That sent a shudder through him, and quickly he found himself wanting to be filled. He panted heavily, flicking his eyes over to Remus who was frowning down at his canvas. He hadn’t anticipated this to be so hard either. There Sirius was, this man that he’d been in love with since school, barely more than two metres away, writhing, sweat slicked and Remus couldn’t touch. He wanted to lick away the bead of sweat that was working its way down Sirius’ temple.

“Rem -”  
“Don’t.”  
“Please, I want you.”  
“I’m painting.”  
“Fuck me.”  
“Busy.”  
“But -”  
“Busy.”

There was a look that Remus had come to know as ‘mischief’. You don’t become friends with Sirius Black without having seen it at least once or twice. When he lifted two fingers up into his mouth, Remus froze. Pupils blown wide over the top of the easel. With a low grunt, Sirius shifted slightly, lifting his bare arse away from the fabric in such a way that Remus couldn’t help but stare. He wasn’t...He wouldn’t. He was. 

“Ahh...ah...fuck.”

The canvas was left forgotten while Remus watched Sirius reach an arm behind himself to press those two spit-slicked fingers past the tight pucker of his entrance and up into that warmth. It wasn’t something Remus had ever seen before, not in real life, and God Sirius looked beautiful. Spine arched away from his seat, one foot outstretched, the other pressed into the floorboards anchoring him in that perfect position. What a fucking position. Remus was diamond hard beneath that paint covered smock, and it took everything he had to tear his eyes away and focus on what he was supposed to be doing. He wondered whose bloody idea this was.

“Nng, shit. Rem, I need -”   
“Not yet. I’m not done.”  
“Please...let me...Please.”  
“No.”

Remus could see Sirius’ toes curling, the tell tale sign his orgasm was on the way, and he forced himself to stay in his spot. He wanted to get up and take Sirius’ leaking cock into his mouth until he could swallow every delicious drop of him. Not yet. He caught his hand moving faster to accommodate Sirius’ wavering composure, but Sirius was coming undone. He could see it. He looked...peaceful, when he was close. Eyes fluttering closed, brows lifted as his body jerked with the effort of keeping himself whole. Maybe he had a few minutes left in him. A few minutes of Remus gripping his paintbrush a little too tight while he watched Sirius fuck himself with one hand and stroke himself with the other. Maybe an extra few seconds of him filling the room with low moans, and the occasional whimper of Remus’ name.

“Ah! Fuck. Fu - uh...”

There it was. Sirius’ body always went rigid when he came. Brows knitting together as his mouth fell open, hand milking out the final few spurts of heat across his stomach. He stayed arched in that position for a moment before finally slumping back down into his seat, pulling in deep breaths to try and regulate his breathing. He wanted to apologise for not being able to last much longer. Maybe he should have gone slower, but Remus was stood so close and he couldn’t touch. The thought alone had been enough to tip him over the edge, let alone the firm tone that Remus had taken to keep him in his seat. His arms felt heavy, tongue sitting like a lead weight in his mouth, and just as he opened his eyes to catch a glimpse of his boyfriend to gauge his reaction, the other was in front of him. Sirius hadn’t even heard him coming, but that hand was in his hair dragging him up roughly, forcing him to scramble to his feet, only to catch Remus’ mouth in a strong kiss. The apron was the only thing between them, but Remus’s arousal was still clear behind it. Erection pressing into Sirius’ stomach.

“God, you’re beautiful.”  
“Did you finish?”  
“I’m about to.”  
“The painting, you cretin.”  
“Fuck the painting.”

With a sharp shove, Remus sent Sirius on a sharp turn to bend him over the arm of the armchair, bare cheeks on display for his lover. It was a sight that even in the heat of his excitement, he still had to take a moment to admire. Twin globes lifted in wait to be parted. Later on, he’d ask himself how in the hell he ever managed to get so lucky, but in that moment, he tugged on the ribbon keeping the apron around him, dropping the fabric in a pile at his feet. Sirius had already done the preparation, and while it’d been torturous, he might ask him to do it again some time. He wanted to keep that image on a loop in his brain forever. One hand reached down to guide himself into that warm space, a shudder running through them both at the intrusion.

“Ah, fuck. Just like that...Mn, I needed you, Rem.”  
“God, you feel good.”  
“Right there. Right...there.”

It didn’t take long for Remus to settle into a rhythm. Hips pulling back and rocking forward to work off the tension he’d worked up watching his lower do what he was desperate to. He wanted to touch. He wanted to lick. One hand coiled around a clump of Sirius’ hair, tugging him up, to press his spine into Remus’ chest to allow him to set a sharp bite to the tender flesh there. It earned a hiss in response, as Sirius brought a hand up to the back of his partner head in encouragement. More often than not, Remus wasn’t this rough, unless that was the sort of evening they were having, but he couldn’t help himself. It was hardly as though he had to mark his territory, Sirius was the only one there, and yet...Fuck...Was he seriously jealous of Sirius touching himself? The wolf in him snarled ‘yes’, and he bit down a little harder, guiding Sirius’ head to one side with a tug of his hair.

“Who do you belong to?”  
“You, Remus. I’m yours. All fucking yours. Don’t stop...don’t stop.”

Remus kept those words on repeat until his pace stuttered and he slumped forward over Sirius as he filled him with heat. That sensation made him never want to stop, but the most he could bring himself to do, was pull his hips back for a final few thrusts to work out the last of his orgasm. He finally released the dark hair from his fist, and instead reached out for the back of the armchair to keep himself from letting his knees give out beneath him, and likely taking Sirius down with him. Instead, he folded forward, setting soft kisses to whatever skin he could reach.

“I don’t know what I was thinking.”  
“Hm?”

Sirius’ brain was still clouded in the post-orgasm haze, where putting words together was more work than he cared to participate in.

“Stupid of me to think I could keep my hands off you.”  
“You did for a while though. I’m proud of you.”  
“Is that what you do when I’m not here then?”  
“Mn, that’d be telling. You uh...gonna stay there all day? Not that I’m complaining.”

Sirius lifted a heavy arm to push the hair from his face, turning to look over his shoulder with a soft smile. He was met with Remus’ own subtle smirk and another quick kiss before he slowly pulled his hips back, shuddering at the sudden rush of cold air that greeted him. With a turn, Sirius’ eyes flicked over to the canvas and he gave a light bounce of his brows. Truth be told, Remus had long since forgotten about it, and if he were honest, the second Sirius had started stroking, he’d lost all motivation and concentration. He couldn’t tell you what the thing looked like as he was painting it, let alone now when his limbs felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was curl around his lover.

“Lemme see then.”

Remus pushed out a heavy sigh, one hand lifting to rub at his eyes as he padded across the hardwood floor to look at his masterpiece. Oh. He caught himself staring for a moment, unable to move or even say anything, even after prompt from Sirius, who after a few moments of silence took it upon himself to just cross the room and take a look for himself. 

“Moony that’s...It’s...possibly the worst thing I’ve ever seen…”  
“Isn’t it! Merlin, what the hell is that?”

A burst of a laugh erupted from Sirius’ mouth as he doubled over. One hand settling on Remus’ forearm to keep him from collapsing into a heap on the floor. Remus had taken the opposite route, and tipped backwards to bark out loud laughter toward the ceiling, gripping at the easel to keep them both up. So maybe art wasn’t his calling, but they kept the canvas regardless. While the painting was absolutely indistinguishable, they’d have something to remember the evening by, as though either of them could forget. Occasionally, a visitor would pause, squint, tilt their heads to the side and ask what the hell Remus had invested in now. A question that was always disputed with:

“It’s abstract.”  
And  
“You wouldn’t get it.”

Well...Until a few months later when James came to an abrupt halt in the hallway where the portrait was hung, and slapped a hand up over baby Harry’s eyes.

“Is that Sirius having a wank?!”


End file.
